Wild Love (Rose Hill, #1)(69)

She throws her head back, laughing.

Then she goes back to typing, and I wait with bated breath to see what she comes back with. I swear the tips of my fingers tingle when her email shows up with bold lettering in my inbox.


Dearest Bation-Master,

OMG! Do you really think he was a quarterback?

Also, if you didn’t use a magazine, what did you think about?

Wait, I bet I can guess.

Was it three commas on your bank account balance?

No. Hmm.

Owning a private plane?

Oh! Or a yacht where all the staff have to wear matching polo shirts in a specific country club color, like “salmon” or something equally bland.

No need to respond. Just blink twice from your throne over there if one of my guesses is correct.

All my best,

Rosalie Belmont

Business Manager to the Bation-Master at Rose

Hill Records

When I finish reading, I look up at her. Unblinking. Then I pick up the pen and tap it against my mouth like I’m thinking hard. Her eyes catch on it and recognition kicks in.

That’s when I bite down on it and send her an honest email back.


Rosie,

I thought about you.

-Ford

When I chance another look, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are fixed on the screen. I chew on the pen harder, waiting for her to say something or to react in some way. But her phone vibrating on the wooden desktop steals her gaze.

Worry flashes on her face, and she reaches for it abruptly.

“Cora? You okay?” Her mouth pops open and closes a few times. “All right. Do you want me to—” Her eyes flash up to mine, and I’m already standing, walking over to her desk. “Okay. I mean, he’s not dumb. He’s going to know something is up.”

Alarm bells ring in my head as Rosie and I face off.

Cora.

“Yep. Just stay where you are. I’ll be right there.”

She hangs up and I’m immediately on her. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t she call me?”

Rosie is up, packing her things. Grabbing her laptop. Heading toward the door in a true rush. “She begged me not to tell you. But you should be happy. I think I’ll go work from your house today, after all.”

I follow her out onto the porch. “Rosalie, so help me?—”

“Ford.” Her eyes are serious as she searches my face. “She might need a little privacy in the coming days, and you’re going to need to respect that. But I need to get into your house and grab her some fresh clothes. If you can’t figure out what’s going on based on all that information, then you are dumber than Scotty looks.”

Oh god.

I felt unequipped this morning, but now?

“Figure it out yet? Ya girls are all synced up. So be cool, Dad.”

I bristle to cover my shock. “I am cool.”

She reaches forward and yanks the pen out from behind my ear where I propped it. “Not when you do that. Plus, I think this pen is mine.”

She turns to walk away, but it doesn’t stop me from landing one parting shot. “Sure tastes like it.”

And again, we go our separate ways to the sound of her laughter.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE


ROSIE





“Okay, and it’s just going to stick to your panties like this.”

I pass the pre-applied pad back under the stall door in the school bathroom as Cora shoves her less fortunate pair of jeans into a plastic bag. I’ve handed her everything under the stall door after checking multiple bathrooms for her throughout the school like a total creep.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she says tearfully.

“Why? We all get our periods. It’s very normal. Welcome to the next, like, forty years of your life.”

“In class?”

I wobble my head as I consider that. “No, not everyone. But statistically, based on the age of people who get their cycles and the number of hours they spend per day in class, it definitely wouldn’t be unusual.”

“I don’t think anyone noticed.”

“Probably not. Plus, if someone was looking at your butt, Ford might kill them.”

That draws a sad little chuckle as the sounds of her righting herself in a fresh set of clothes fill the otherwise empty bathroom.

“Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s just… there’s a lot of blood. Are you sure I’m okay?”

I lean against a sink and glance over my nails, trying not to laugh. Because it’s not funny. But it is a walk down memory lane. “Oh yeah. The first couple of days are often quite heavy.”

“How can you just… talk about this so casually?”

I try not to think about Ford. Showers. Dark towels There’s a man who talks about it casually. “Well, when it happens for one week out of every month, it eventually loses its shock value.”

“Oh my god. How am I going to handle having this every month? It’s so awful.”

“Don’t fret, little storm cloud. It’s not so bad. I’ll show you more when we get home.”

“Okay,” she says quietly before the sound of the toilet flushing fills the space.

When she comes out, she looks embarrassed as hell.